Entries Tagged 'Short Stories' ↓

The Tour

“I just wanted to call and give you a heads up on an upcoming project,” her boyfriend said, leaving a message on the answering machine.
Deanna sat in her tiny studio, absently listening as she studied the canvas wondering how she was going to fix the acrylic red smear. As he droned on, she debated about picking up the phone. Victor was second year art professor with connections in the foreign exchange program and wanted her to be his traveling companion for the summer.
His proposal was enticing. It offered a chance to enjoy Paris the way it was meant to be. Yet she had reservations. Victor was a quick hitter, a blank canvas when it came to romance. She realized that after their first night together and chastised herself for not following her initial impressions. By early spring it was over, but they still remained friends. Continue reading →

Through The Eye of The Needle

(Authors note: This is an excerpt from a work in progress. It had since grown from its original intended length and is well on its way to becoming my next novel. This is the original short story.)

“Go home! Go home now!”
“We will, Ben. As soon as the storm blows over.”
For Jarred Tate, Ben’s fear was unmistakable. Palpable and laced with urgency, the proclamation left little doubt he was terrified. In all the chaos, it was a miracle they had found this island.
No, Jarred. Go home now!”
Jarred turned to his brother sitting cross-legged beneath a stunted palm. Normally quiet and impassive, whatever had triggered the outburst had passed, and was now replaced with another litany of names. Over the years the list had grown to include species of birds, fish, mammals and reptiles, germs, variations of word tenses, their antonyms and synonyms and beyond. There were more but he couldn’t remember all of them. How Ben did it was a mystery to him.
Today’s featured dinosaurs and he knew it was useless to interrupt him. The recital would continue until the right synapses fired and normalcy returned. Until then there’d be no breaking through to him, no matter how hard he tried.
“Abrictosaurus. Acrocanthosaurus. Agilisaurus. Alamosaurus. Albertosaurus.” Continue reading →

Friends, But For a Moment

Still groggy after the third ring, I rolled over and squinted at the clock until the numbers materialized.


Who the hell was calling me at this ungodly hour?

On the fourth ring, I fumbled for the receiver, missed, and knocked the clock off the stand. As it clanged and banged against the floor, I took great pleasure knowing this particular annoyance was coming undone. You see; I hate clocks. They are another albatross of society. They infest our lives, clinging to our world as tiny workaholics relentlessly telling us we’re late, early or behind schedule. I for one would like to see them rubbed out like unwanted pestilence, but that dear friend is a narrative for another time. Like me, you’re interested in who the hell is calling. Continue reading →